


Radio Hymns of the Highway Messiah

by thetinyclapoflittlehands



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Faith Healer, Gen, Messiah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 18:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetinyclapoflittlehands/pseuds/thetinyclapoflittlehands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn’t believe in God, but he believes in Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radio Hymns of the Highway Messiah

The sun shines on Sam’s face like maybe there is a God.  With his head tossed back, he soaks it in like a reptile, that golden light filling even the dark sunken pits of his eyes.  It sort of bothers Dean that he has no idea what Sam’s thinking about but he knows for sure this sunshine won’t last.  He steals glances at his brother whenever the road doesn’t demand his attention.  It’s too bad.  It was easier when it was just Sam and himself and God stayed out of it – stayed on his throne of storm clouds in the sky.

Dean drives too fast with the windows down, one hand out of the car, pretending to soar through the open fields that roll by while the other sits heavy on the wheel.  They’re driving straight into a thunderstorm and bad weather always makes Dean drive faster.  Lightning bolts only scare him because he has a tall brother.  Dean already feels guilty for bringing Sam into a place without sun and he promised their Dad he’d keep Sam safe.

***

Sam looks like a soldier and Dean figures that’s a fair assessment of him.  Sam was brought up like one; he was raised to stand at attention and quickly learnt that “Yes, sir,” was the only response their Dad wanted to hear.  But a straight back and military manner only got him so far – that’s where Dean comes in.  He’ll take the bullet or the lightning bolt – whichever comes first for Sam – because Sam is precious and important and he’s got big things on his horizon.  And Dean is his brother and being related to Sam is what makes him significant.  Sam’s face is dirt smeared, hair a halo of knots, and he’s broken in a way that fully appreciates the power of being able to put things back together.  Dean is clean, smells like soap, and only ever really excelled at fixing cars, field readying their guns, and taking care of Sammy.

*** 

Sam doesn’t walk bare-foot because Dean won’t let him.  Sometimes people throw their empty beer bottles on the ground when they’re done with them and Dean knows what broken glass does to unprotected skin.  Sam can’t seem to understand.  Maybe because all the healing he does, stitches and tetanus doesn’t seem like a big deal.  But Sam can’t heal himself.  Dean figured out real early on that Sam still bleeds and it’s not holy, so Sam wears unholy leather boots like Dean and Dad do and knows how to tie them because his brother knew a rhyme about rabbits.  Dean insists that Jesus would have worn orthotic insoles if he had the choice at the time.

“Would have made the march through the desert a little less stressful on the arches of his feet.”

Sam isn’t sure if that’s a blasphemy to say but he rolls his eyes at his brother, which of course, only encourages him.  Dean says blasphemous things all the time but only because Sam pays attention to sin like a God-hawk and Dean likes knowing that Sam’s listening.  But Sam’s always listening and encourages Dean to misbehave because Dean only trusts Sam’s attention if he looks judgmental while paying it.  It was that same page, different story type of comprehension system that worked for them.

***

Sam is baffled by how a man as stubborn as his brother could live a life on the road spreading the word of God without believing a syllable of it.  Sam can’t understand that Dean isn’t faithless; he just puts his faith into someone he can see and touch.

Dean doesn’t believe in God, but he believes in Sam.  When he sees amazing things, he automatically thinks, “You doing this, Sammy?” just because it’s Sam who makes amazing things happen and why shouldn’t he get the credit for God (or happenstance) every now and again?

***

John was the first God Dean knew, back when Sam was just a ball of poop and wails.  John showed Dean what love looked like and the shape of a man pushed past the brink.  Above everything, he preached the sanctity of family, and maybe that was what paved the way to Dean’s godlessness.  God was a stranger Dean didn’t owe anything to but he rode in a ‘67 Chevy Impala everyday with two men staring down the brink.

The responsibility to keep them from slipping became a faith. “Take care of your brother,” became an Amen. 

So, when Sam lets him, Dean runs his hands through his brother’s hair, fingers getting all tangled, pulling at the halo.  And Sam doesn’t seem to mind that it hurts a little to be loved by Dean.  Dean doesn’t know – can’t know – what goes on in that head of Sam’s.  He doesn’t know it hurts.  Dean figures God owes Sam that much, to let him get away with this single selfish, wholehearted need to love someone and be loved in a visceral way back. 

Sam doesn’t think he should get away with anything. 

***

Dean doesn’t carry the cross but he keeps every stone his brother hands him.  Whenever they go on walks along the shoulder of the highway, during those pit stops between point A and point B, Sam finds the most ordinary of all the rocks and picks them up like tiny hitchhikers.

“They might be important one day.”

Sometimes he thinks maybe it’s a test Sam has devised to see how much his brother loves him, and when there are enough rocks piled into the trunk of the car (all the vagabond chunks of the earth Dean kept in faith that they’ll be important one day) maybe it will be the proof Sam needs.  Each stone is worth hanging onto for the chance of that day happening.  Until then, the rocks Dean carries in his pockets bow his legs and make his back ache.

***

Each night when Sam climbs back into the car, exhausted from doing God’s work (saving people, healing things), Dean will tell him “Saved you a cold one,” and hand him a drink.  What he means is, “Take it easy, man.  Rest a bit.  Look at all you do – everything you’ve done – for all these people you don’t owe anything to.  You’re one of the good ones, Sammy.  You’re okay.” and Sam will take the can of diet coke or the bottle of beer depending on the night and smile because that’s all he’s ever wanted to hear and seeing it in Dean’s eyes is enough for him.  Just for that moment, it feels like enough.  It’s the proof Sam needs to trust that his brother isn’t wrong.

***

It’s no act of God when they roll into the parking lot of an old style diner and order hamburgers but Dean thinks Hallelujah every time.

Dad drinks his coffee with cream and sugar, now.  He can drink it black but he doesn’t feel like he needs to prove it to anyone.  Dean likes that.  Sam’s just waiting for his heart to give out, but he thinks it’s better this way, too. 

A heart, he can fix.

There’s still a storm in front of them but the florescent hanging lights keep the darkness away.

 


End file.
